The British American Boy
by Tay-Chan the Hobo
Summary: Arthur Kirkland has received a call that would change his life. He is chosen to take care of a small boy from America. But Arthur isn't sure how to raise him. In Britain.
1. Yo

I noticed that there are a lot of fanfics about pairings, and I thought it'd be cute to make one about when Britain was taking care of the kid America. So here's the first chapter. : l Yay

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**The Call**

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><p>On my eighteenth birthday I received a call from social services. They said that they wanted to see me immediately.<p>

I put on my best coat and took the tube to their headquarters. I knew my way there well; after all, I had been in the system for the past nine years. When I arrived the front desk informed me that I was expected in room 102. I carefully opened the door and met a young woman behind a desk.

She attempted a warm smile but seemed stressed. Her blond hair was in a tight bun behind her pale head. "Mr. Kirkland?" she asked lifting her hand. I nodded and shook it. "Ms. Browne. It is a pleasure."

She motioned to a chair opposite herself and begun to pull out formal papers. "Right. Well we have some business to attend to."

"Of course," I replied. "I expected that there would be some matter to attend to regarding my moving out. Although I had not expected so soon."

Ms. Browne glanced at me briefly and placed a file in front of me.

"Mr. Kirkland, this meeting is regarding whether or not you are willing to become a legal guardian."

I stared at the woman for some time. Why on earth would she ask me that question?

"Why would you consider that?" I asked flatly. "I've lived with my foster parents for four years. I have no home of my own yet and I just finished grammar school. Above that I have not had the cleanest record."

"Mr. Kirkland we are well aware of your situation and record." She pulled out another folder and flipped threw it. "You've had several arrests when you were younger for thief and vandalizing property. My, my, you were quite the delinquent. But soon after you became a model citizen. However, I have no doubt the child will be in a safe environment."

"I still cannot fathom why I of all people would be asked about this." I said putting my hand to my head. "I am the last person to take care of another person."

"Actually, you were the first that came to mind," Ms. Browne replied with a sly smile. After giving her a look of confusion she decided to explain. "This boy recently lost his adoptive parents and the first thing that came to mind was to locate his brother."

"What? What does that mean?"

"Let me spell it out for you. You have a younger brother and we would be grateful if you could take him in. Otherwise he'd have to go into he system and, well, you know how that is."

"If I have a brother," I asked hesitantly, "Then may I meet him?"

"No. He is not British. This boy lives in America." They wanted me to take care of an American orphan? "The Americans called first," Ms. Browne continued. "They located you and contacted us. We all would be very happy if you took this into consideration," she finished.

I looked at my hands in my lap. "Did they find anyone else? Any more family, I mean," I asked without looking up.

"One," she answered. I looked up hopefully. "But he's also nine and lives with his adoptive family in Canada."

Of course.

"Arthur," Ms. Browne said quietly, using my first name for the first time. "He hasn't been told. He's not eagerly awaiting your response. As far as he knows he's going to a foster home. No one will be disappointed. You can say no."

After a while I sighed. "Well," I said with a heavy breath, "There is no need for consideration. The answer is yes."

For the first time I stole a glance at the file in front of me. Twelve letters were neatly printed onto it.

Alfred F. Jones

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><p>So that's the first chapter. I hope it's good. Sorry if the titles are a little cheesy; if anyone has any better ideas that would be great!<p> 


	2. S'up?

Nice, I've got Chapter Two! Also, I think I've come up with a clever way to name the chapters.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: S'up?<strong>

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><p>I had one week to prepare. Alfred was coming in seven days and I was still living with my foster parents. I had previously been looking at one-bedroom apartments, but I now needed to find something to accommodate two people. I had little money and already worked long hours at the shop. So it only made sense that I was worried.<p>

"Why on _Earth_ would you agree to something like this?" I asked myself one afternoon while I was mopping at work. I had no idea how to support another person; I had already decided I would be living poor by myself. I thought about that file. Alfred F. Jones.

I took a deep breath and remembered why I was doing this: I was determined to take care of my brother.

I somehow managed to come up with enough money. I got a loan from my parents, who were also kind enough to buy another bed. With two days to spare I bought the cheapest apartment I could find and had successfully moved the new bed plus my own into it.

My parents also had felt the need to go through their attic to find any furniture they no longer required. After a complete makeover, it was almost impossible to tell that I was dirt poor.

Almost. Nothing actually went together, so I now had a spotted green couch with a striped purple rug, along with the bright red wallpaper that came with the room that I could afford to change. Just as an example. I must say, though, that after the living arrangements had actually been figured out, I was looking more and more forward to meeting the boy.

I packed my things and moved in the day before Alfred was to arrive. For the first time, I slept in a house by myself. True, there were neighbors in every room of the complex (it was an apartment) but I could not help feeling alone. I was suddenly glad that a child was to be filling the void the very next day.

When I woke up I dashed to the bathroom to get ready. I hadn't heard my alarm clock and the first thought that came to mind was that I had somehow slept through it. After about ten minutes, during which a shower was taken and teeth cleaned, I hear the familiar sound of my clock.

"Thank God," I laughed. "I'm early, not late." After that I tried to take my time getting ready.

I had previously come to the conclusion that I should use a taxi to pick up Alfred. I was going to simply use the tube, but I realised that he would probably have luggage to carry. I decided to use the tube to get to the social services office, and then have a taxi waiting for us.

When I arrived, I could feel my heart thumping. I didn't realise how truly excited I was until I saw a little boy sitting timidly next to Ms. Browne in the lobby. Walking over to their couch, I had to hide a smile.

"Hello, Mr. Kirkland," Ms. Browne greeted as she stood up. She sank down to her knees to look the boy in the eyes. "Alfred, look! This is Mister Kirkland, the man I was telling you about?"

The boy looked up to me and had a nervous smile. "Um, hi," he said putting his hand out.

I shook it and smiled myself, then greeted, "Hello, it's very nice to meet you."

Alfred had two things with him: a very large suitcase and an oversized aviator jacket. He looked so small with the larger items.

Ms. Browne discussed a few last minutes details with us, and then escorted us outside where the taxi had just pulled up.

"Let me help you with that!" she exclaimed grabbing Alfred's suitcase and opening his door. After placing it in the trunk, she turned to me. "We still haven't told him."

"Told him what?" I asked confused.

"That you're his brother. I'm sorry, we just weren't sure how to tell him, and thought it might be best if you explained it however you prefer." I stared almost in disbelief, unsure if this was a good thing or a bad. I eventually just nodded as we said goodbye.

I slide into the passenger seat and exchanged my address, having to correct myself after giving my parents' address.

"So," the taxi driver said trying to make conversation, "this your kid, then?"

"Oh, no," I responded casually. "He's my little brother."

I noticed Alfred looking up in the rearview mirror. His smile was a mixed emotion of shock, surprise, and utter excitement.


	3. Check me Out

**Chapter 3: Check me out**

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><p>The cab pulled up in front of our home. I paid the man and got out to help Alfred with his luggage. He had already gotten out and was now pulling his suitcase out of the trunk. I put a hand forward to help, but he jumped back with a thumps up and a silly grin.<p>

"No need, dude! I am totally strong enough to carry it on my own!" he cheered. I simply smiled and watched as he struggled with the heavy bag.

I was about ready to help anyway when -

BANG

The suitcase had fallen to the ground and was picked up by a triumpent boy. "See, dude?"

I also was not aloud to help him carry it into the building. Or up the stairs. Alfred had for some reason insisted that we take stairs to show his heroic strength. Already he seemed a bit off, but in a fun way.

It was adorable to watch Alfred pull the suitcase up the stairs. He would set both feet on the step above and pull on his bag. The funny part was he was actually able to do that; his suitcase looked far to big for him to carry. And the fact that he still had his huge jacket on just added to his cuteness.

We came to the room and I opened it with my key. Alfred dragged the suitcase to the couch and plopped down.

"Don't you want to bring it to your room?" I asked with a smile. He looked at his bag, down the hall, and back at his rather large suitcase.

"Later, Dude." he put his hands behind his head and laid down on the couch with his eyes closed. He eventually opened them and examined me. "Were you serious?" he asked.

"Yes. I didn't know where you wanted your suitcase," I said randomly.

"No man, about me being... your brother." His playful smile was gone and he stares intently at me.

"Of course."

"Why didn't you try to find me before?" His voice wasn't upset, just curious.

"Well," I said clearing my voice. "I just learned about you a week ago. And I'm only eighteen, so I haven't had time to travel or learn about my family."

He looked like he still had more questions, but didn't want to ask yet. Instead he nodded and his smile came back. "Cool, dude. But I'm not calling my big bro 'Mr. Kirkland,' so what's your real name?"

I could have laughed. "First of all, that is my real name. Second of all, my first name is Arthur."

I would have loved to keep talking to him - Alfred's American accent was just too cute - but he jumped up demanding to see his room. I showed him his plain white room, with white sheets and white carpet. He stared at the emptiness then up to me. "Can we, um, change it?"

"Of course, I just wasn't sure what you would have liked. We can pick out paints or whatever you like."

"I want cowboy sheets!"

For that night, he had to go without his cowboy sheets. I made him dinner - macoroni and cheese from a box - then tucked him into bed in his superman pijamas.

Waking up the next morning, I peeked into the room of the sleeping boy, filled with joy at having a little brother.

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><p>Sorry if it seems short and unprogressive. I have to get through the beginning before anything more interesting happens.<p> 


End file.
